The Lost Children of Carbonado
by Tears.Of.Estel
Summary: When she left England after her life fell apart, the last thing Hermione Granger expected was to become the sole suspect of a missing children's case. The police on her doorstep was one thing, but a hunter? Some things, people just don't write books on.


_**Prologue: We Could Have Had It All**_

Hermione Granger had once had a great life. She had had everything she could ever possibly want, right? A great job that left her feeling satisfied (not to mention wealthy), amazing friends and family (who loved her as much as she loved them), a nice house (well, apartment) and of course, the most brilliant man in the world as her fiancé. What more could she ever want? What more could she ever _need_?

Funny how all aspects of one's life like to come crashing down at once. Not fair either.

The first decline of Hermione Granger's life came one simple afternoon. On the surface, it seemed like any other autumn day but it would soon become known to her as the day when her perfect life began to crack. What could make this ordinary day important?

Thinking back, she had to give him some credit. He was a successfully sneaky bastard. Neither of them had expected her to finish work early that Wednesday, which was obvious by his behaviour.

It was supposed to be a treat, a nice little surprise for her after all the hard work she had put in. Some extra time off before the wedding. Well, it was safe to say that they were both definitely surprised when she walked happily into her home at two o'clock to find _her_ fiancé in _her_ bed with _another_ woman.

She was so stunned she found that she could not move or speak. Her first reaction was shock as she watched them continue, whispering naughtily to each other as they didn't realise that she had just entered the room. His eyes, however, catching hers, the surprised voice was enough to break her out of her reverie.

"Mione?"

Her second reaction was fury. She wasn't quite sure how her wand had fallen into her hand so quickly, an old reflex picked up throughout the war, perhaps. But now it lay trained on the man she had loved with all her heart.

"Mione." He repeated, this time with a weak smile. He had somehow managed to untangle himself from the slut and sit up in the bed. "You're home."

"Get **out **of my bed." She said, her voice deadly quiet. Her wand aim had switched to the girl accompanying her now ex-boyfriend. The woman, who looked barely legal, turned her noise at Hermione and sniffed.

"Actually, I'm quite comfortable." She retorted, with a huge fake innocent smile.

Her eyes narrowed. "If you know what's good for you, you will leave _now_."

"Oh don't worry. I know _exactly _what's good for me." She placed a hand on his chest, batting her eyelids prettily. He looked very, _very_ worried now.

And with good reason. Hermione wasn't sure if the girl would ever look at a man like that again when she ran out of their apartment, crying and screaming. Marietta Edgecombe rose at the edge of her thoughts as she took a step towards him. He put his hands up in surrender.

"Mione, don't do this."

That was the last time she ever saw him. The feelings of pain and humiliation on his face would comfort her forever.

Her face had remained guarded all day as she dealt with different things. It was the soul-less face, as he had once liked to call it and now it was being used for the soul purpose of destroying anything in her flat that reminded her even a little of him. It worked especially well when she set fire to their bed.

The face didn't come down until hours later when tired, hungry and finally upset, she arrived on her _real _best friend's doorstep. With a worried look at his own partner, he welcomed her in and spent the night on the sofa with her, watching sappy muggle movies and eating her favourite food in the whole world: Chocolate Fudge Brownie Ben and Jerry ice-cream.

The next strike was a poor one, weakening her already weak esteem. Turned out the little whore was the daughter of her supreme boss, who wasn't very happy with Hermione's hex-casting abilities. Goodbye dream job.

That night, more ice-cream was required to send the pain away.

The two strongest blows to her cracking life were yet to come, though. She now knew why her mother had always said not to have sex before you got married, like a good little Christian girl. Sitting on the edge of Harry Potter's bathtub, crying her eyes out over a little blue line, she regretted never having listened to her.

She may not have wanted a baby but losing one three months in was a sore, sore blow, the last one she could deal with. She had, officially, had enough. She couldn't take anymore.

"I _hate _men." She muttered angrily as she threw some of her clothes and important possessions into a small suitcase. Harry, who had been standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, raised a brow.

"Oh, you don't count."

"My masculinity is weeping."

She snorted. "Sorry love, but you lost that when you started dating members of your own sex."

He rolled his eyes and smiled as his own partner walked into the room, dying to know why he wasn't getting any sleep.

"Hermie's leaving us."

The man threw a tired but overly dramatic look in her direction. "Why must you always be so awkward? Can't we talk about this at a reasonable hour, like when it's _not_ three a.m.? We could at least _pretend_ we're normal people."

"I thought you could never be lowered to normal, Shane?"

"What can I say? Potter's constant desire to be below average is rubbing off on me."

The three bickered for another hour about her leaving, but now that she had her mind set, nothing could change it. Both men were worried about her determination to run off into the big bad world with no plans and no places to go. But what could they do?

"I'm only a phone call away when you need me." Harry murmured as he wrapped her in his biggest and warmest hug yet. _When _you need me, not _if_. He knew her so well.

They had been right to be worried, she realised as she stood in London, trying to figure out what her next plan of action should be. Looking through the small handbag she had taken with her, she found the passport that her parents had insisted on getting her a year ago. That was all it took to set her off on her next biggest adventure. Now, all she needed was a taxi.

"Heathrow Airport, please."

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**Welcome to my first ever cross-over! :) So, this story is set about 6 years after The Deathly Hallows (But before the epilogue) and a few months after season 5 of SPN and completely ignoring season 6. I'm sorry, but i really didn't like s6 and i don't know it is as well as the other seasons of SPN. Also, yes i am fully aware that HP is set in the 90's, but for the sake of some cross over fiction, lets pretend it's set the same time as SPN. Hermione is around 24 in this story.

Thank you for reading the prologue. Hope to see you for chapter 1. :)


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